


Canis

by Goober



Series: Auribus Teneo Lupum [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Sex, Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexism, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goober/pseuds/Goober
Summary: Nothing about the boy screams potential from the outside, but there’s something about him. Vulpes is never wrong.





	Canis

“Down.”

Vulpes watches his newest charge kneel in front of him, obedient like the dogs he was born to train. The kid still wears his slave collar, deactivated, but snug around his thin throat. His body is lithe, muscular but nowhere near impressive. He barely looks strong enough to pin the mongrels, but he does. Without his shirt it’s easy to see the web of scars across his back and arms; he’s hairless, almost feminine.

“Do you know who I am, canis?”

The kid nods, and Vulpes’ lips curl in disappointment. His hand wraps around the slave’s throat, forcing his head up. Blue eyes flicker across his face, and Vulpes turns his head in amusement watching the boy’s different sized pupils widen with the emotions he fights to hide. Fear —  _ good. _

“Is that how you address your superiors?”

“No, sir.”

His voice is small, high pitched and strained. Nothing about the boy screams potential from the outside, but there’s something about him. Vulpes is never wrong. He releases the boy’s throat and watches his eyes quickly fall from Vulpes’ face, settling on his shoulder.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Remus, sir.”

Of course, he already knew this. It was rare for people to keep their pre-Legion name, but Remus was an exception made by the legate who dragged the child in. From what he understands the boy was born in a tribe taken by the Legion; too weak to become a proper soldier, he was given to the mongrel handlers.

Antony seems quite fond of the boy, but in the end it only took a mutt to pry Remus from the Houndmaster’s hands.

“I own you now,” Vulpes says plainly. “You’re a smart boy, from what I hear. I’m sure you know what I have in mind for you.” Remus looks back up at him, and Vulpes stares him down until the boy looks away from his eyes. His lip quirks in satisfaction, before he continues. “You’re weak, but you’re not incapable. You have half the men around here looking out for you — swallowing your pride and spreading your legs like a woman has its perks, doesn’t it?”

A faint flush spreads over Remus’ cheeks and Vulpes smirks.

“I have every right to tie you to a cross by nightfall, you wouldn’t be the first example. But I have high expectations for you.” This draws the boy’s attention back up to his eyes, and Vulpes finds himself interested in the differences in his pupils again. “Fail them and I’ll be more than happy to see you crucified.”

Remus’ eyes don’t waver this time, brows pulling together as he works out the meaning of Vulpes’ words. His intelligence isn’t something to throw away so easily, not when it could be put to better use than training mongrels and whoring out for protection.

He reaches out and tangles his hand in dark brown curls, nails scraping Remus’ skull. Pushing his head back a little, the boy’s neck extends nicely, the collar slipping beneath the small bump of his adam’s apple. Vulpes can’t deny the boy is pretty; long eyelashes, an angled (if not a little gaunt) face, plush lips. He can see why the Legionaries would take advantage of a willing body, even if it did belong to a man.

As if sensing his train of thought Remus’ eyes fall to Vulpes’ waist before flicking back up, concern creasing his face.  _ Oh. _

“You’re smarter than that.” If he thought giving any kind of sexual favor to Vulpes would increase his chances of survival, he was mistaken this time. No, Remus would have to do that all on his own.

However.

“If you’re so hell bent on being treated like a woman, that can more than be arranged,  _ lupa. _ ”

There are no shadows outside the flap of the tent, the distant footfalls of soldiers through the Fort sends a thrill down his spine. Though he knows no one will interrupt them, per his orders, the thought that someone could walk in adds a little more fear for Remus.

His new slave seems to have the same thought as he tries to turn his head, closing his eyes in pain as Vulpes grips his hair harder and keeps his face forward. Pulling on the brown curls hard enough to have the boy exhale sharply through his nose, Vulpes smiles. A heat building in his groin.

“Go on.”

It takes very little coaxing in the way of pulling the boy’s hair to get his work-worn hands on Vulpes. He’s hesitant, clumsy in the way he unbuckles the belt holding together the man’s uniform.

Remus moves up to his fingers to lessen the strain on his scalp, but Vulpes doesn’t ease his grip. The small speckling of tears in the boy’s blue eyes has him half hard already, impatient as Remus slides Vulpes’ clothes out of the way slowly.

He doesn’t wait. With his free hand he grabs Remus’ chin and pulls his jaw down, sliding the head of his cock into the waiting, open mouth. Teeth scrape against him for a second, before Remus is quick to cover them with his lips. He’s already learned where biting will get him.

The warm cavern of the boy’s mouth has the heat building harder in Vulpes’ gut, pulling his jaws apart and pushing his hips forward. He releases the hold on Remus’ chin, and the slave reaches up to steady himself, trying to pull back but unable to move with his head locked in place.

With no other choice, the boy swallows down the remaining few inches Vulpes has. Gagging. The shimmer of salty tears on his eyelashes as his eyes close.

“Eyes on me, canis.” Punctuated by a sharp thrust of his hips, pelvis against the boy’s lips.

He gags again, pushes to breathe. To his credit, Remus opens his eyes and looks up at his master. The sizes of his pupils are distracting, but he gets to watch them shift, swallowing the pale blue of his iris with reluctant arousal.

Vulpes pumps his hips a few lazy times, enjoying the drag of the boy’s tongue on his cock. The way his mouth tightens around him, and then, the way his throat flutters as his head blocks off Remus’ air supply.

Remus tries to swallow around him, but Vulpes doesn’t give him the chance to gain any sort of momentum, of regulation. The boy is a body, willing or not, and he intends to use it all he likes. Remus doesn’t necessarily need to be part of it. For a moment the only noises are the Legionaries outside their tent, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of Remus’ mouth.

It’s not enough.

He throws the boy down by the hair, releasing him on the way down. Only when the slave is on his back does he place his boot down square on his chest, leaning down for a better view. Remus looks good beneath him, hair a messy crown around his head, wide eyes scrunched in confusion. Vulpes toes at the collar around his neck, dragging his boot down the side of the boy’s face.

“Get on your hands and knees, like the dog you are.”

Vulpes moves his foot and the boy is slow to turn onto his stomach. Vulpes kneels behind him, eyes running like claws across his slave’s back. He pulls the roman skirt down over the slave’s ass, admiring the almost feminine curve of his hips. Remus’ head is hung low, and as Vulpes grabs him and drags him closer with an arm around his hips, he pushes the boy’s face in the dirt. His knees scrape against the ground, but the itch is forgotten the second he shoves himself into Remus.

With only the boy’s drying saliva on his cock the push is harsher than usual, surely painful for the shaking slave below him. His uneasy slide into the boy is tight, hot, and overwhelming. Remus cries out a little, biting his lip to stop the noise from carrying. Footsteps stop outside the tent, then continue.

Grinning viciously, Vulpes thrusts again, feeling the boy quiver beneath him. His nails dig into the slave’s tan skin, moving to release his face in order to grab both his hips. Without regard for the small cries coming from Remus with each thrust, Vulpes takes his pleasure from the boy.

He’s tighter than the women they have around as slaves, he fights a little more than they do. Remus pulls away, only causing him more pain as Vulpes slams his face down into the dirt again. His thrusts become harsher, wrestling Remus down with his body. He’s stronger, it’s easier to make a show of force. 

Pushing him down by his shoulder blades, he digs his nails hard into Remus’ back, hard enough to bite through the skin and leave little crescent indents. He can feel the heat building hotter in his gut, hips stuttering a little. Remus’ body becomes more accommodating, still tight but not nearly as harsh. With the extra give Vulpes feels himself growing closer to the edge, dragging his nails down Remus’ back as he grabs his hips again.

His thrusts become more erratic, and he swears he can feel Remus moving in time with him. Though if it is by choice or from his body rocking with the sharp pace Vulpes keeps, he doesn’t know for sure.

He finishes silently, stilling as he spills inside the boy’s body.

For a second he is content to listen to Remus try and regulate his breathing, knees locked and legs shaking. He lowers himself to the ground as Vulpes pulls himself out, standing and dusting off the dirt caked on his knees. There’s a little blood, pink as it runs from his slightly gaped hole, come mixing in as it leaks from his body.

From this angle he can see the boy is half hard, a blush of shame dark on his ears.

“Get whatever things you have, meet me at the dock. Your training begins immediately.”

Vulpes watches Remus crumple a little, satisfaction surging through him as he steps to the side and sees tears streaking down the boy’s dusty face. There was really no lesson to be learned here, it just  _ was.  _ Vulpes drags his clothes back up, buckling his belt. He looks professional, as always, knocking off the sand from his gloves.

Stepping over the slave he opens the tent flap and exits. If the others notice the redness of his knees they avert their eyes from him. Vulpes says nothing as he passes Antony, casting a side glance in time to see the Houndmaster’s brows furrow as he looks back to the tent Remus still occupies. 

He has work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Canis -- dog  
> Lupa -- female wolf, in this case Vulpes is using the translation as whore


End file.
